Dear Mr. Perfect

I dreamed about you last night… It’s been quite a long time now. And when I woke up, I knew we had to talk about this.

When I first fell in love with you, I must have been the happiest teenager in the world. I still remember the day I found you in the pages of the innumerable novels I’d read, and how in you I’d found traces of the most romantic, the most handsome and the most intelligent men lore had told me about. You were my Mr. Darcy, you know. My Sherlock Holmes and even my Don Juan at times. Your handsome chiseled face made my heart skip a beat each time I closed my eyes and envisioned you. And when you held me in your arms, my face would be buried in your chest, and everything would be right with the world. You would write me passionate, sentimental letters, and profess your love for me in ways hitherto unknown to me. You read books, and watched movies, and loved to talk to me about the books you read and the movies you watched. And the best part? You’d loved everything about me. You found me the most beautiful woman in this blessed planet, and you never failed to let me know that you did. You loved my temper tantrums, and my vehement opinions, and even my mood swings. You’d understood my silence, and I had loved to hear you talk in days when I would have nothing to say. And yet there were days when you would simply listen to me yak away to glory, without saying a single word. You understood my whims and fancies, and even loved the fact that something as simple as a song could make me laugh all day long. You loved my music, and would always tell me how you could spend your whole life listening to me sing. You made me write, and loved each word I’d scribbled down on paper, trying to find sense in them even when there wasn’t any.

You made me laugh till my stomach hurt, and you made me cry out of happiness. You were .. Perfect. And I was in love with you so bad I couldn’t see anything beyond you.

And then, somewhere down the years, something really bad started happening. I grew up. And you never did. You remained just the way you were always. Timeless. Imprinted in my memory forever. Always to be found on leafing through the pages of my old favorites. And each time I would look for you, you would be right there, never letting me down. But what could I do? Who knew that growing up meant I would be looking for you in places other than those novels? And that instead of finding traces of other people in you, now I would be looking for traces of you in everyone? It was difficult, you know. Waking up to the realization that I would never find you anywhere, no matter where I looked.

You stopped coming to my dreams. And I stopped waiting for you.

And then, even as I grew up, words like “compromise” and “adjustments” started cropping up in my world. The more I embraced them, the further you shirked away from me. That’s when the tie really fell apart, didn’t it? The day I realized I hadn’t thought about you in a really long time; that I was so wrapped around Mr. Real that I wasn’t even aware that you were gone?

Can I tell you something honestly, though? I missed you at times. Hard to admit as it was, sometimes I would wistfully wonder where you were. But I guess I have to do this once and for all. I am over you, Mr. Perfect. I am not the same teenager who had dreamed about you, and fallen head over heels in love with you. Mr. Real may not be you, but he is what you are not. Real. I know, I know I sound brutal, and this is so not the way to go about it, but well, I guess this is where we part ways. I wish you well. I am sure even as I write this, some girl is falling in love with you already. Treat her well, Mr. Perfect, just like in those hours of day-dreaming that you spent with me. Paint her world with the same colors you painted mine. And when the time is right, tell her to let go of you. Just like you did to me.

Wasn’t that what yesterday’s dream was about?

P.S: I have half a mind to pick up “Pride And Prejudice” right away, if only to dare you not to re-enter my life!

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